Christmas Crime
by Xx.Triple A.xX
Summary: Getting dragged out to go caroling with Valjean and Cosette proves to be more of an adventure than Javert could have expected. AU; is connected to RISTI but can be read on its own.


**Opening Authoressial Note:** This story _could_ be read on its own as an AU fic, I suppose, but you're more likely to understand the relationship between the characters if you read the one that came before it: _Readers, I Shrank the Inspector_, abbreviated as RISTI. Anyway, I wanted to write a Christmas story, and the idea of Valjean dragging Javert out to sing carols struck me as amusing, so here you go. :)

**Disclaimer:** I entirely fail to own _Les Misérables_. Be depressed with me. …Actually, don't, because it's CHRISTMAS TIME!!

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"Explain to me once again _why_ we are doing this."

"Because it's fun, Javert!" Valjean gushed, stamping his feet in an effort to keep them warm. He, Cosette, and I were a small part of a much larger group, whose sole purpose was to tramp around the city, knock on the doors of random citizens, and sing Christmas songs. The technical term, as Valjean had informed me, was "carolers." I had seen groups of these "carolers" around the city before at this time of year, but never had I expected to be one of them.

"It's _cold_ out here," I growled. "It's _snowing_. Sane people are at home drinking hot tea and… I don't know… reading."

"Javert, if you relaxed for all of five minutes you might realize that this is actually fun." Nothing I said would dampen the man's cheerful demeanour. "Now hush! It's time for 'O Come All Ye Faithful.'"

"We just sang that," I pointed out. "Back at the house of that elderly lady with the fifty-seven cats –"

"_O come let us adore Him, O come let us adore Him, O come let us adore Him, Christ the Lord!_"

I sighed and shoved my hands into the pockets of my heavy coat. I had spent several years patrolling the streets in weather such as, and worse than, this; but that had been an activity that I considered worthy of my time and effort. As it was, I was only accompanying Valjean and his group of happy singing acquaintances because Cosette had asked me to very nicely and pleadingly – and I decided that it was easier to just give in to her request rather than face Valjean's silent irritation when he found out that I had denied his beloved daughter something that she wanted.

I raised an eyebrow as an elbow jabbed me in the ribs. "_Sing_, Javert. It's why we're out here."

"My vocal chords are strained." That was all I could say in the way of an excuse before a delicate, feminine hand slipped into mine.

"Isn't this fun, M. Javert?" Cosette asked, tilting her head back so that she could look up into my face. "I'm so glad you came."

I made a noncommittal noise. She took it for a sound of assent and I suddenly found myself being tugged away from the main group toward a house nearby.

"Ah, Mlle. Cosette -"

"I've _told_ you not to call me that. And don't worry, Papa won't mind. It's good to get away from the main group for a bit; besides, I haven't heard you singing very much. This is a way for me to get you to do it more. You have a very nice voice, you know." She blushed; Cosette always did that when she was complimenting someone.

I sighed. "Very well. What should we sing?" I inquired as we approached the house.

"Um… what about _Petit Papa Noël_? I like that one."

"As you wish." I stepped up to the door and struck the knocker against it. The knocker itself was carved in an interesting fashion, one that resembled a snake, but I didn't have much time to admire it before the door swung open and a man who looked younger than his white hair said he was beamed out at us.

"Ah! Carolers! _Bonjour_, come in, come in. You look absolutely frozen to death, monsieur, which certainly makes me fear for the little lady."

"Thank you," Cosette said pleasantly, taking the man up on his invitation and stepping into his house. I followed, since I had been included in the invitation, but also because I knew that letting Cosette enter a stranger's house alone would bring certain ex-convict-inflicted death down upon my head.

I wasn't too worried because this had already happened to our group once or twice; the people with bigger homes and surplus food would invite us in for snacks and warm drinks. It was greatly needed and appreciated sustenance after spending hours out in the cold, and though I had been dubious the first time around I had since come to appreciate their hospitality.

The man ushered us to a seat on his couch. "Please, sit. I'll be right back with some hot cider." He went off into a side room that I assumed either was, or led to, the kitchen. Cosette stood up and went to warm her hands at the fire.

"Goodness, what a nice person! I love the holidays. And what makes it even more exciting is that we'll be moving so far away, so early into the next year. It's all like one big adventure!"

I nodded, only half-listening to her chatter as I took in the state of the room we were in. The man had been fairly well-dressed, but a close look at the interior of his house and the decorations revealed that he was dressing well beyond his means. Everything attempted to look elegant and expensive without truly being so. Even the couch on which we were seated was posing as something better than it really was; its cover had been replaced, but it had too much sag in it to be truly new.

Slowly, I stood up, extending my hand in her direction as we did so. My policeman's instincts were kicking in, and what they were saying I now voiced to Cosette.

"We should leave."

She frowned, rubbing her hands together as she began to move away from the fire. "Leave? Why?"

"I do not think this man is who he would like us to think he is. Let's go, now."

She had barely taken another step in my direction before the man emerged from the room that he had entered earlier. This time, however, he was armed. But this was nothing I had not been expecting, and while Cosette had not been moving, I had. The man leveled the gun in her direction, only to find me in his way.

"Stay behind me." My voice was low and intense. Cosette's hands, which I could feel clinging to the back of my coat, informed me that she had no intentions of doing anything but. Meanwhile, the man had lowered the gun slightly.

"You're a clever one, monsieur. But smart doesn't mean armed. I still hold the advantage."

"Indeed," I said shortly. "However, I refuse to listen to any promises about you not hurting us. I am fairly well aware that your plan is to kill us and take any money we may have on our persons – or vice versa."

"_Very_ smart." The gun moved. It wasn't hard to tell where his target area was. I could practically feel the hole burning over my heart. "You're not just any caroler."

"No." I moved one hand behind my back and used it to tug on Cosette's sleeve and point to the door behind us. Her grip on my coat loosened slightly.

"But -" she whispered.

"Don't worry." My voice was low enough for only her to hear. "I've dealt with his kind before. Go get your father. But wait until I distract him."

Her hands tightened, loosened, then finally let go. I took a deep breath.

"I am Inspector Javert. You may have heard of me." I judged he had by the way he suddenly went pale and snapped the gun up to my head. "I suggest you drop the weapon."

"I think I'd rather shoot you. I wouldn't just be doing myself a favor, you know."

"Yes, I know, I'm the bane of criminals everywhere. And do you know why? It's because I'm smart, as you said. In fact, we've known about you for a while." Old habits die hard, and it's not hard to lie to a criminal anyway. "You _really_ don't think that I would come in here unarmed and not bring, oh, I don't know, _back-up_?" As I finished my sentence, my gaze darted over his shoulder, an intentional fake. He fell for it, whirling around to shoot at a nonexistent officer.

As his weapon discharged, I shoved Cosette away in the direction of the front door and simultaneously sprang towards the man. Before he knew what had happened, I had struck the gun from his hands, yanked his arms behind his neck, and slammed him to the ground by the fireplace.

"That," I snarled, "was stupid."

"You are too smart for your own good," he snapped. "One of these days, it's going to get you into serious trouble."

"Hasn't yet." I wished fervently for some handcuffs. I was soon spared from the nuisance of having to keep him pinned to the floor when two policemen came charging into the house, followed by Cosette and Valjean.

"I got the police first," Cosette gasped. "Are you alright, M. Javert?!"

"Quite." I stood up and adjusted my coat, though the action proved to be pointless as I was enthusiastically embraced by Cosette moments later.

"You saved my life! Oh, to think if you hadn't been there – I would have _died_!"

"I doubt that," I said, trying to inject some sense into the overly emotional situation. Hugs, in my book, classified as_ overly emotional_. "Your father would not let you enter a stranger's house without himself or someone else he trusted -"

"You were _amazing_." Her arms tightened around me. I caught Valjean's gaze with my own pleading one, but he looked happier than Cosette and certainly had no intentions of freeing me from her embrace.

"Ah, as touching as this is, don't we have caroling to do? We really shouldn't let this ruin our day."

"Don't worry. It won't." Cosette withdrew, but kept staring up at me with that hero-worship expression in her eyes. It was really rather unnerving. "Now, what was our next song going to be?"

"Ah, _Petit Papa Noël_, I believe," I muttered, then almost lost my balance when Valjean seized my hand and dragged me out of the criminal's house and back into the cold.

"An excellent choice. And you have to sing it this time, alright?"

I failed to restrain from an eyeroll. "I _was_ planning on it."

"Good. Ooh, perhaps M. Noir's hands are warm enough for him to accompany us on his violin once more…!"

Ten minutes later, we were beginning the song, this time to random passersby on the street. Part of me wanted to be stalking past and ignoring them; but I _had_ told Cosette I would sing.

I blinked snowflakes out of my eyelashes and began to do so, letting the satisfaction of having brought another criminal to justice flood my voice. After all, it _was_ Christmas-time.

"_C'est la belle nuit de Noël, la neige étend son manteau blanc, et les yeux levés vers le ciel, a genoux les petits enfants. Avant de fermer les paupières font une dernière prière…_"

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**Ending Authoressial Note: **_Bonjour_, and Merry Christmas! I guess the fact that I've written this means there will HAVE to be a sequel to RISTI… the first chapter likely won't be out until after Christmas, though, so you'll have something to look forward to!

Also, my apologies if the lyrics for "Petit Papa Noël" were not entirely accurate. I don't speak French and I got the lyrics offline, but reading them while listening to the song, they sound pretty close, so I crave your indulgence.

If it's not too much trouble, do drop a review, and tell me what you're hoping to get for Christmas! Me, I've made it quite clear to everyone that I would _love_ the new _Kingdom Hearts_ game. :) So _au revoir_ and… I have no idea how to say "Merry Christmas" in French. But Merry Christmas again, anyway!


End file.
